The Lonely Mountain's Moan
by Anonymonimus
Summary: Two months after a horrific accident at his excavating site, John Watson is plagued with memories and dreams that his lover, Smaug, insists are nothing but folly brought on by the trauma of the event and the major brain damage he suffered. But Smaug is hiding something and the answer to what lies within the ruined depths of the Lonely Mountain where John nearly lost his life.
1. My Name is John Watson

**Imagine Smaug looking like Sherlock because that's how I imagine his human form.**

* * *

"My name is John Watson. My name is John Watson. My name-"

"Are you repeating the exercises your psychologist told you to do after having that dream?" Smaug asked as he entered the room nonchalantly.

John nodded and sighed deeply before leaving the mirror he had been standing in front of to seek refuge in the taller man's strong arms. He tucked his head beneath Smaug's chin and breathed in his lovely scent. "I'm not sure this is part of the trauma..." John admitted and was surprised upon feeling Smaug tense, "I mean... it's too strange...It's the same dream again and again...it can't be a coincidence...can it?"

"John..." Smaug said after a moment, he wrapped his arms tighter around John and rocked him gently, "You went through the most horrible of trials. You suffered the worse of head injuries and, as a result, lost your memory. The brain behaves in a manner that is still very much a mystery to doctors. And yet, everyone can confirm that the people you see and describe in your dreams have never existed."

"Maybe if I return to the mountain..." John tried, but like every time he brought up the topic, Smaug interrupted him.

"You know it's not safe to return..." Smaug said with the sweetest of smiles that, for some reason, always unnerved John. But just as he thought about looking away, Smaug pressed his lips against John's as he always did. "The site is still very unstable and they've barely cleared any of the rubble."

"It's been two months..." John tried, but that argument never worked.

"John, love," Smaug cooed, "The Lonely Mountain is an ancient ground on which you were leading an excavation project. There are countless precious artefacts and it'll take time for them to clear enough of the debris before allowing what remains of your team to return and continue its work."

"But I could-" And, as things always went, Smaug interrupted with another kiss, but this one was always more profound and lustful.

"You've made a miraculous recovery John," Smaug reminded and took John's hands, leading him to their bed. "But you're still far from being perfectly healthy again."

"The doctors said that would never happen." John muttered as he was pulled onto Smaug's lap and shuddered in delight beneath his roaming touch.

"You know what I mean," Smaug smirked and pressed a kiss against his neck, "You're still weak and it's not a good idea to go walking about or straying too far from the house."

"A-and yet you insist on doing this every day..." John stuttered as he repressed a moan.

Smaug chuckled, "Well you need to get _some_ exercise, don't you?"

* * *

John laid in the bed alone. Smaug had left as he always did to go to work while he was left to ponder for as long as it took for his lover to return. He closed his eyes in exasperation but quickly opened them as horrifying flashes of his dreams played through his mind. The falling rocks, the intense screaming, watching people being crushed by the ceiling, and then catching but a glimpse of a handsome man with piercing blue eyes. His heart beat increased and so did his breathing. Before long John was forced to sit upright to help himself breathe and began reciting the exercise the doctor Smaug had hired for him had said would help with the traumatic visions.

"My name..." But this time John hesitated. He saw the face of the handsome man again and it seemed as though he was mouthing his name, but it was something different to _John_. He shook his head and took a deep breath, "My name...is John Watson. My name is John Watson. My name is John Watson. I am an archaeologist and I was excavating the Lonely Mountain when the foundation let up and crumbled onto my team and I. I survived, as did few others. My name is John Watson...and the thirteen men I describe in my dream _do_ _not exist._"

* * *

**So this is going to be a rather short chapter series :D  
**

**I'm expecting it to be done very soon.**

**Expect about 5 chapters xP**

**The second should come out a few hours later lol**

**SO SEE YOU ALL THEN!**


	2. From an Old Friend

**So this is the second chapter and the last one I'm uploading today xP**

**This story is essentially going to be very fast paced (as you might have guessed by the fact that there are only 5 chapters)**

**So yea...**

**I don't have much to say...**

**ENJOY THIS CHAPTER AND SEE YOU NEXT ONE!**

* * *

The following days had been no different from the previous. John awoke in his shared bed alone and sweaty from another horrible nightmare he struggled to remember. He repeated the calming exercise until he was interrupted by Smaug one more and their argument led to a physical exercise in bed. Then, he was kissed passionately and abandoned once more as Smaug slaved away in an office or whatever it was he did, John wasn't too sure.

John sighed deeply and rolled onto his side, wincing slightly because of the soreness of his behind but also the movement was horribly nauseating. He tried to steady his stomach but the urge was too powerful. He vomited loudly so much so that it brought Smaug right back to the room in a fit of panic. The tall man kneeled at John's side, careful to not step on the puke and hurriedly steadied him before helping him to their bathroom where John threw up again. Smaug stayed by his side until he was done and gave him some medication before leading him back to their bed.

"What happened?" He asked anxiously, sitting John on the end of the bed, "Is it because we do it too much? Have I been exhausting you?"

"No." John answered with a weak smile, "I just moved too quickly and felt really dizzy."

"You need to be more careful." Smaug schooled. "Now I'm worried about leaving you alone…"

"I'll be fine…" John reassured, "But…you know, I think it would help if I got fresh air once in a while."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Smaug frowned.

"I've barely seen the sun in the past two months!" John argued, "I'm not asking to return to the mountain, I just want to go to a café or something and have a nice cup of tea or coffee! I feel trapped Smaug, I want to see something different than the walls of this room!"

"John, love," Smaug said softly in an attempt to calm John, "I've already pulled a lot of strings to get you to accomplish the rest of your recovery here rather than in the hospital—"

"I don't think going out is going to ruin anything the doctors have accomplished, Smaug." And he hoped the determination in his voice was enough to have Smaug understand how desperately he wanted to go outside.

"John—"

"If you're so worried, you can come with me!" John quickly offered. "You can keep an eye on me and as soon as we're done, we'll go back home, please?"

Smaug paused for a minute, carefully looking at John and considering what was being demanded of him. "Alright." He sighed, "I'll clean up the mess you made next to our bed, call in sick and help you get dressed."

"Thank y—"

"But if at _any_ moment I think you're not doing so great," Smaug added in all seriousness, "We're coming straight back, no protests, understood?" John nodded and could barely contain his excitement which manifested itself as an incredibly large smile. His beaming happiness was so touching to Smaug that even he couldn't resist to return it. "Now sit still while I get everything organized and call me if you need anything."

* * *

Moments later, John was leaning on Smaug for support as they walked out the front door. The sunlight was blinding but it was merely a passing incapacitation brought on by having been locked away for two months. John took in a deep breath and basked in the sensation of the wind tickling his skin and ruffling what little of his hair had grown back. He had never thought going outside could feel so wonderful.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Smaug looking at him curiously and all he could do in response was smile and peck a kiss onto his lips. Smaug then returned the smile and guided him down the driveway and onto the sidewalk, heading to the Green Dragon Café three blocks away.

They advanced at a leisurely pace and though it was rather exhausting for John, he didn't dare say anything for fear of Smaug forcing him to return to their apartment. He wanted to enjoy and savor the sensation of reintegrating into society for as long as he could. And maybe if Smaug deemed he tolerated their little adventure properly, he would allow him to repeat it even if the doctors might strongly oppose to it.

After their short and silent walk, which, mind you, was still agreeable, they arrived to the Green Dragon Café. It's medieval-like green font and the green dragon tangled around the letters was a refreshing and familiar sight to John. He supposed he had been there before but couldn't recall the memory no matter how hard he tried.

"What's wrong?" Smaug asked.

"Nothing…" John reassured quickly, "I just…this place seems familiar…and it feels like I can almost remember the time I spent here, but I can't…"

"Don't worry about it," Smaug smiled sweetly, "You shouldn't try to force it, it'll only frustrate you. The doctors said that it would take time for you to remember."

"That's _if_ I remember." John said bitterly.

"You're too pessimistic." Smaug stated and patted John's back comfortingly, "Just let nature take its course. You'll remember when you're meant to."

And then they walked in.

The door triggered a bell signaling the arrival of new customers which distracted everyone present in the establishment for a very short moment. Half of the people there were seated at tables, sipping on tea and reading a good book, whereas the other half chatted quietly which contributed to the calm and retro atmosphere of the place.

John took another deep breath, the scent of the polished wood, brewing coffee overpowering the delicate aroma of tea, and the faint sounds of cups clanking against the table tops or of a kettle whistling somehow inspired a glimpse of a lost memory. John vaguely remembered that he had spent a considerable amount of time in the Green Dragon Café and he hadn't spent it alone.

"Have we been here before?" John asked as Smaug led them to a free table in a more private corner.

"We have." Smaug confirmed shortly.

"Have we been here with others?" John continued when Smaug didn't elaborate.

"No." Smaug answered, "You were never very sociable. Now what would you like to drink?"

"Just a cup of tea, I suppose." Bilbo sighed as he glanced around the café. "Whatever it was I used to take when I came here."

"Alright, I'll be right back. Stay here." Smaug said and kissed his forehead before queuing with the other customers.

Left alone once more, John had more time to dabble in his thoughts. Everything about the café seemed horribly familiar but his memories seemed to refuse to surface. He continued to look around in the hopes of finding something that would trigger his memory when his eye caught sight of a pin board. There were many pictures from what John could see but the only legible thing from where he sat was: "_We thank our regulars_".

Thinking he might have been a regular before the accident, John got up and walked over to the pin board, painfully aware how it was very difficult to walk without Smaug's support. But Smaug was in line for their things and couldn't be bothered at the moment and so he dealt with the struggle on his own.

He got to the board feeling rather winded and barely heard the bell ringing again, marking the arrival of a new customer however, John was far too tired to satisfy his curiosity like all the others who must have vaguely glanced in the new arrival's direction. Once he regained his breath, he examined the pictures nailed to the board. There were many jolly customers posing but none of them were familiar to him and none of them were of him. He sighed in defeat and was about to return to his seat when a small detail caught his eye.

There were holes in the pin board which meant that the owner had taken off some pictures. And the more he stared at them wondering why they had been taken away, the more he felt the creeping sensation that he was on one of the pictures that had been discarded.

"Excuse me." An old man asked, startling John out of his thoughts.

"U-uh, yes?" John asked, his heart racing, "How can I hel…"

His voice trailed off as he looked at the surprisingly tall old man and felt as though he had already met him before. There was something about his long grey beard and torn up grey clothes that seemed incredibly familiar but, before he could ask, an envelope was shoved into his grasp.

"W-what's…this?" John asked, running his fingers over the wax seal.

"It's from an old friend." The old man said with a melancholic smile. "Keep it safe and only open it when you're sure you're alone."

John stayed quiet for a moment, examining it carefully before asking: "I'm sorry, I don't remember you. Are you sure this is for me?"

"I'm more than positive." The old man replied, "But now I must leave you. Remember, keep it safe and keep it hidden."

And with that, he suddenly left and all but disappeared from John's sight. John stared out the window in shock for a moment, trying to understand what had just happened when Smaug's unimpressed voice startled him out of his perplexity.

"I told you to stay." Smaug reproached.

"O-oh, I'm sorry." John said as he turned around and stealthily hid the envelope in the back of his shirt. "I just saw the loyal customer thing and came to see."

"Who was the man you were talking to?" And Smaug suddenly seemed very hostile.

"I don't know," John answered, "A beggar probably, judging by his clothes."

"What did he want?" Smaug continued.

"Nothing." John lied, "Some change, which I didn't have, and he left immediately after."

"Hm." Smaug said and seemed to accept the answers provided, "Come," he ordered and ushered John to return to the table, "We'll drink and go home."

"Okay…" John muttered and dropped his head a little in disappointment.

"I bought some scones…" Smaug quickly added upon seeing John's pitiful expression, "They're blueberry, you're favorite."

John perked up and thanked Smaug. They sat at their table and began eating slowly and quietly at first, but Smaug quickly engaged in small talk and John found himself quickly enjoying the former's presence and forgetting about his odd encounter with the homeless man.

* * *

By the time they left, they had spent about three hours, having spent most of their time just chatting rather than drinking or eating. They were in the highest of spirits and the wonderfulness of the moment affected Smaug in such a way that he decided to stall their return to the apartment by stopping by a pastry shop for John to pick a few of his favorite sweets to bring back.

"This was wonderful." John said and kissed Smaug's cheek lovingly, "Thank you for letting me out."

"It was my pleasure." Smaug replied and pressed his lips against John's in a longer and more meaningful kiss.

"M-maybe we could do it again…" John suggested a bit shyly, "But like…go on a date instead…"

Smaug's smile widened, "You're too adorable." He chuckled, "I don't know how I can resist you…"

"So is that a yes?" John asked hopefully.

"Of course it is." Smaug assured, "But I want you to rest for a week before we go out again. Don't think I didn't notice how exhausted you were once we got to the Green Dragon!"

"I was only tired because I don't exercise anymore!" John protested.

"Perhaps we should fix that…" Smaug purred seductively, "If you're feeling up to it…"

John blushed horribly and rather than answer, for he was too overcome by embarrassment, he merely pulled Smaug inside their home and settled the box of pastries next to where they discarded their shoes.


	3. I Found a Key

**This chapter was fun to write :D**

**It didn't take as long as I thought it would so yay**

**I particularly like the ending of it :DD**

**Now there are only two more left so hurrayyy**

* * *

The next morning Smaug left particularly early for work as to make up for the time he had taken off the day before. He kissed John goodbye and stated his regret in leaving him. It was obvious that he wanted to repeat the good mood of yesterday's events but it would have to wait.

John went back to sleep when Smaug finally left. He woke up at noon due to his stomach crying out for food, and just as he was about to head for the kitchen, he stepped on the envelop he had been given by an old beggar. It was hidden beneath the pile of his crumpled clothes but the tip of an edge could be seen. He stared at it for a moment, contemplating whether he should read it then or wait after lunch. However, his curiosity quickly got the better of him and John picked up his letter and seated himself comfortably on his bed before reading.

He tore the wax seal and his heart rate quickly increased. For some reason, John felt as though he had already read the letter but that was impossible. He didn't know the old man who had delivered the envelop, he was sure about that. But even knowing that couldn't calm his nerve.

His trembling fingers reached for the message and he slowly pulled it from its confines. He breathed in deeply and carefully before reading the first few words that were enough to freeze his blood.

_Dear Bilbo,_

_I suppose it's silly of me to express my apology through a letter but the boys stated that if I had too much pride to say it to your face first, I could at least begin with a letter and then confirm it to you correctly.__I don't want us to fight like this anymore. I do reckon I've made a mistake but I wasn't the only one who was at fault. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did and you shouldn't have accused me of being insecure towards you. I want you to know that I do indeed trust you and know that you would never betray me but I can definitely not say the same for Smaug.__He's hated my grandfather and father for as long as I remember and sought to ruin them. And though he did partially succeed and that I do have many other reasons to hold resentment in his regards, I want you to know that I will not hold it against you any longer that you chose to be his friend. You can befriend whoever you wish, you're smart enough to know who's a rotten soul and who's redeemable.__Fíli and Kíli wanted me to add that they miss you and want you to return as quickly as possible home. I can't say they're the only ones who miss you._

_- Thorin_

_PS: Meet me at the Lonely Mountain tonight. There's something about my findings I need to discuss with you. I found a key._

"Bilbo…" John reread in awe, "Who's Bil—"

He was quickly interrupted by a sharp pain to his head and the sudden flashes of memories. There were the thirteen people he always dreamed about and yet most of the memories appearing were centered on the handsome man with the sharp blue eyes. For a moment he saw three children, a blond one who seemed to be the oldest, and two brunets, one with a bowl haircut and the other with a hairpin to keep his locks from covering his face.

The children's faces were somehow relaxing but then John remembered rocks falling and crushing everything around him. And as the pain intensified with the shrieks and screams replaying in his head, out of all the chaos, he could make out a thunderous voice telling him softly: "Meet me at the Lonely Mountain. I found a key."

And then everything stopped abruptly. The only sound John could hear was his blood rushing madly through his body as his heart slowly slowed its pace. He was shaking horribly and it took him a long moment of sitting quietly in his own embrace to truly calm down. Once he did, he was no longer hungry, he only wanted to return to the Lonely Mountain.

He didn't know who Bilbo was, it wasn't his name, Smaug had told him his name was John Watson as did all the many doctors he hired to take care of him the past two months. And yet, the letter said that Smaug could hold resentment to the point of intentionally ruining those who had angered him. However, his knowledge of the Smaug that bedded him every day conquered with what was said and John found himself quite troubled. The Smaug he knew was obviously very protective of him but the main reason for that was because he was horribly injured and he was worried. Even then Smaug was incredibly gentle when dealing with him or simply when touching him. He treated John as though he was the most precious of artifacts that could turn to dust if the weakest gust of wind came in contact with him. Smaug was loving and caring…wasn't he?

_Meet me at the Lonely Mountain…_

The trip to the Lonely Mountain was a five hour car ride out of the city and into the wilderness there and back again. The road was torn and in generally poor condition, for the most part, a truck was the ideal vehicle to use for the terrain, but John had none and was hardly in the proper state to be driving. His only option was to hope a cab would take him to his destination.

John dressed himself slowly, finding the task more arduous than when Smaug was helping him but he quickly pushed that thought away. He didn't want to think about Smaug until he knew for a fact if the man was the one he had made himself out to be from the moment he appeared in the Hospital or if he was the cruel man that had sought to destroy Thorin's grandfather and father and partially succeeded. The answers he wanted lied in the Lonely Mountain and he would find them as to clear his conscience.

Winging down a taxi was no hard task and, luckily, the man wasn't bothered by having to travel such a distance – probably because he didn't know just how much his car would be suffering at one point of the journey – and only demanded a slightly higher amount of money than he would have received in the end. John agreed and thus ended their conversation.

The ride was rather quiet for the cabbie had understood that John was going through a particularly troubling moment and decided to keep his questions to a minimum. He only asked for the reason of his trip and John's name, but, for some reason, he found it particularly difficult to say. "I'm not quite sure anymore." He muttered instead. "I'll find out once I get to the mountain."

And so five hours passed horribly slowly. John only knew they were near when the car began to follow roads rising in altitude. And then, as the trees cleared and the canopy's gaps began to widen, the sight of the Lonely Mountain was visible to them. Its peak was incredibly high and John could see just a hint of snow decorating its peak. The car soon pulled to a stop, just next to the empty parking lot. John reached into his pocket but the driver quickly stopped him.

"No charge." He said.

"R-really?" John asked baffled. "Are you sure?"

"I am." The driver said, "Now go. I won't be here when you return."

John nodded and just before leaving the car he said: "If you ever need anything at some point, you know where I live. Come find me."

"Honestly sir," the man smirked, "I don't think you'll still be living there by the end of the day."

The man then drove off and John watched him leave until all he could hear was the car bumping and struggling down the road. He breathed in deeply and looked at his watch before glancing at the mountain. It was a quarter over five, Smaug would be returning to their apartment soon and would quickly deduce he had escaped to the Mountain. He had five hours to find the answers he required and visit the lieu of the incident which was, John supposed, more than enough.

He walked towards the entrance of the site, guarded by a lone guard that seemed distracted more than anything. John hoped he would be able to pass through without striking his attention but no such luck was in his favour.

"Where does he think he's going, precious?" He guard hissed in his direction.

He was a lanky man, balding beneath the tight cap around his head, incredibly pale and fidgety. His big blue eyes seemed as distracted as they were present, and before John could continue assessing the man's appearance, he began coughing violently and seemed to be saying "Gollum" at the same time. It was as he kept coughing that John remembered what he and the other workers used to call him, though his actual name was still unknown to him. They used to call him "Gollum" in secrecy after the horrendous noise he made when he coughed.

"I came to visit the site." John stated, hoping to keep the conversation to a minimum.

"Of course he was, wasn't he?" Gollum continued and approached John, "But the site is closed, precious, and only the master can authorize who enters."

"Well I work here." John tried.

"Many dead people worked in this hole—" Gollum quickly interrupted himself and his skeleton-like face seemed to brighten immensely. "Hole!" He yelled and returned to his booth to scribble something down on his paper as he laughed, "Hole! That was a good one, eh precious?"

"What was?" John asked curiously.

"What is it the more you take away and the larger it becomes?" Gollum asked, "A hole!"

"So you're answering riddles…?" John asked and hoped he could get into his favour by showing an interest in his past-time.

"What of it?" Gollum suddenly asked aggressively.

"W-well, I just like riddles." John said, and he leaned on the window to Gollum's booth to peak at the sheet of paper. He skimmed through them and pointed at one, "See?" he asked and then read the riddle quickly. "What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up, up it goes and yet, never grows? The answer's _a Mountain_."

Gollum scribbled it down and glared at John, "So he thinks he's clever, does he precious?" he hissed, "But he's still not allowed in the mountain."

John sighed defeated for a moment when he got an idea, "Well your job must be horribly dull now a days," he said, "I mean, you've brought a book of riddles to work. There mustn't be too many interesting things going on."

"Yes?" Gollum responded curiously.

"Why don't we make it more interesting?" John offered, "Why don't we have a game of riddles?"

Gollum stared at him but wasn't particularly convinced to partake in what John offered.

"I can tell that you're _very_ good at this," John continued, in the hopes of swaying Gollum with complements, "So, if we do this and I win, you let me in—"

"And if he loses, what then?" Gollum asked.

"If I lose," John thought and he couldn't think of anything Gollum would profit in having from him aside from money, "Then you've proved yourself a better and smarter man than an archeologist such as myself. It's an archeologist's job to solve riddles of history you know."

The prestige attributed to that condition was enough to convince Gollum. "Alright!" he agreed, "Well Bagginses first!"

John was about to compose his first riddle when the he was distracted by what Gollum had called him. "Baggins?" he repeated.

"Yes," Gollum answered slowly, "Bagginses. Your name…was this a riddle?"

"N-no, no," John replied quickly and merely decided to ignore what Gollum had called him, assuming he probably made a mistake. "Brothers and sisters have I none but that man's father is my father's son."

Gollum took a moment to consider the riddle, repeating key points, muttering beneath his breath and making odd faces as he rationally thought out the answer. "My son?" he asked, still unsure, but after wording the answer, the hints all seemed to fall into place and he knew he'd gotten the right answer. Thus, with a laugh he moved on.

"Our turn," he said darkly, "Mountains will crumble and temples will fall, and no man can survive its endless call. What is it?"

John stood in awe for a moment, thinking that the level of difficulty was a bit different from the one he had given but ultimately deciding that Gollum probably didn't care. He thought profoundly and though he barely remembered any of his past as an archeologist, John found that the hints in the riddle offered themselves quickly to him.

"Time." He answered, "The answer is time."

Gollum glared. "Very good."

"Right," John sighed and thought, "I have mountains with no peaks, forests without trees, oceans without water, and cities without people, what am I?"

John felt rather proud with that one, seeing as it did somewhat tie with his profession. He observed Gollum as he thought out the answer and seemed to have a particular bit of trouble solving it. He told him here and there as he thought that he was nasty and clever which brought a smile to John's face.

"Well, do you give up?" John asked confidently.

"Give us a chance, precious, give us a chance!" He hissed but there was a hint of despair as his resolve seemed to crumble. But then, the answer was suddenly apparent, "A map! It's a map, precious!"

John sighed in disappointment, hoping to have ended the game then and there but without luck.

"What can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a head but never weeps?" Gollum asked, feeling clever.

John was hardly puzzled with that one, the third verse gave away the answer, "A river." He said.

"Clever Bagginses." Gollum growled.

"Yes, well," John said and was distracted by a sharp and familiar pain to his head. However he bested it and voiced his riddle, "A box without hinges, key, or lid, and yet golden treasure inside is hid."

Seeing as he had completely invented that one, John was sure he had won the game. However, Gollum was smarter than John had initially guessed. It wasn't long before he guessed "Eggses!" And began laughing frantically.

"Grandma taught us how to suck them dry." He giggled creepily, but his good mood soon disappeared as it became evident he was getting bored of the game, "Last riddle. Last chance. What can bring the dead; make us cry, make us laugh, make us young; born in an instant and yet lasts a life time."

"A memory." John entered in a sort of a trance. His heart beat increased as it normally did when he gradually became more anxious but the fear and paranoia he normally felt was gone. In its stead was a sort of peaceful feeling – something best described as an epiphany. For some reason, he felt as though he was remembering everything but no new memory was making itself known.

Gollum protested and whined for a moment, but everything he said went unnoticed by John who entered the site without much thought. The only thing that Gollum said that he did here was "Bagginses" which constantly echoed through his head.

_It seems more familiar…_ John thought to himself, and at that point the name 'John' felt wrong, _It seems appropriate…_

The Lonely Mountain's dusty tunnels were quickly shrouded into darkness but John somehow knew that before even the vague silhouette of objects were hidden away, lied many flashlights meant to be used while excavating. He grabbed one and turned it on mindlessly. It was soon revealed to him that, further down the entrance were large boulders that had yet to be removed however it was still possible to navigate through them.

Eventually the dirt covered floor was merely covered by a faint layer of debris and John could make out the emerald walkway and the intricate and delicate details engraved into it. Suddenly, the knowledge of what he had been uncovering in the mountain began to return as he walked further into the place and saw more magnificent artefacts of a time that had long since passed.

The place he had been excavating tied the mythical tales of long ago to reality. He had found a hidden temple where it was supposed that a community of Dwarves skilled in craftsmanship, architecture, mining, and construction, had lived under the rule of their King believed to be a descendant of Durin. To honour the greatness of their King, they had made the palace as grandiose as they could, taking more care than they normally would in fashioning the most perfect of castles using the inner walls of the mountain as a tool as much as a canvas.

On some of the greater walls, those the Dwarves hadn't bothered to cover in marble, jade or other precious stones, they had carved in their history. The tale was easily decipherable for it was mainly composed of drawings and few words of their native language which they eventually labeled Ancient Dwarfish. Though John found himself unable to make sense of the letters and combinations, he had, by chance, found a historian with a profound knowledge of the Dwarven society that had once been thought of as mythical folly.

And yet, the man's name escaped him until John suddenly remembered his back hair always tied back to keep it from obstructing his view, his short black beard that complemented his facial features just perfectly and his piercing blue eyes that were more beautiful than any sapphire jewelry conceived by the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. "Thorin…" he whispered as his eyes wandered over the most curious of tales carved onto a wall of the mountain. Apparently, long ago, a dragon had attacked their home and chased them out. They only returned nearly seventy years later to reclaim it, but they were only a company of thirteen Dwarves with a wizard-like man leading them and a smaller creature none of them knew how to name.

Suddenly, three translucent figures appeared inches before him, they're silhouettes glued to the wall as they stared upwards at the detailed carvings of the story displayed. "_Why's that little kid with them?_" asked the oldest of the three with a braid in his hair.

"I don't think that's a kid…" John thought immediately, almost as though he had already answered the question some time ago, "I think it's a man…"

"_But he's so small…_" Said the one with the bowl haircut, as though he had heard him.

"_And he's not hairy like all the others so he can't be old!_" Said the third one with a pin in his hair.

"That's very good deducing for a couple of children." John thought and the three immediately turned to face him with vexed expressions.

"_We're not stupid, you know!_" Stated the one with the pin.

"_Uncle's been teaching us stuff about the Dwarves_!" Added the one with the braid.

"_And my brothers have been showing us how to deduce more stuff!_" Said the one with the bowl haircut.

"Well you all have great teachers and they must be proud of you." John thought and the answer seemed so rehearsed that he felt confused. His eyes grazed the carving again and he examined the strange little man that stood next to the king-like figure, "We're thinking that the man standing next to the King is not a Dwarf at all, nor a human or Elf, we think he might be of a completely different race we have yet to learn about."

"_So what are you gonna call him?_" Asked the oldest, fiddling with his braid.

"_How about 'Hairy Feet'?_" Suggested the one with the pin.

"_That's mean!_" Commented the one with the bowl haircut with reproach.

"We're thinking of referring to him as 'Halfling' or 'Half-man'." John thought, examining the carving closely, "We've studied the artefact closely and we've learned that, in all the rare times he's shown, he's always measured to be half the size of a human."

John's eyes lowered to the three children with their noses against the rock but, to his surprise, they had vanished. He looked around for them quickly and was about to move to a different room in search for them – seeing as a mine that had just collapsed was no place for children – when John vaguely saw a silhouette escape to the left. He followed after it for a few minutes and eventually entered the largest room he had ever seen.

What wasn't covered in dust, dirt, or rocks was made of the nicest of precious treasures and was carved with the most care. The beauty and majesty of the place was incredibly familiar to John and though he could almost place the memory, it escaped with him as he caught sight of rusted gates and a dark figure standing before them.

"Hello?" He asked and was surprised by the clear echo of his voice as he approached the man. "Have you seen a couple of children running around? It's not safe for them you know…"

"I find it so ironic and so sad that you mention those three when you can't even remember your own name." Said the stranger and it took John a moment to place the familiarity of it.

"You!" He said, "You're the old man who gave me the letter yesterday!"

"I am…" He responded quietly.

"Well you must have given it to the wrong person—"

"I trust you don't actually believe that now, do you?" The old man said as he turned to face John. "Surely bits and pieces of your memories have begun to return as you walked these dreary halls."

And the mention of that was unnerving to John who felt as though there was something important he didn't quite remember and should know. "I'm sorry but I—"

"Don't try to repeat what Smaug has been feeding you ever since you've woken up." The old man interrupted with disappointment, "Your name _isn't_ John Watson and you know it. You've begun to feel that it was wrong, haven't you?"

"Then…if my name isn't John Watson…what is it?" he asked, feeling at a lost.

"Now you're asking the proper questions," The old man complemented, "But you already know the answer because it has already been told. Think, what _is_ your name?"

He thought for a moment and replayed the events that followed the strange meeting in the Green Dragon Café. The memories were soon mixed with those that seem to date of before the incident and he could see the three children's faces clearly as well as those of the ten others he had been told didn't exist. Everything was suddenly coming back to him.

"Tell me," the old man repeated, "What is your name?"

"My name…" and he paused for a moment, as if to make sure he wasn't making a mistake, "My name is Bilbo Baggins…"


End file.
